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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983655">The Spark Before Flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatSnake/pseuds/BatSnake'>BatSnake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Between little ghost getting the dream nail and summoning the troupe, Probably taking their grand old time, birth of the grimmchild, g rated birth, here's my idea, how did that happen?, talk about being born in fire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:21:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatSnake/pseuds/BatSnake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come.<br/>The ritual must be prepared. The end must have its beginning.<br/>Grimm isolates himself for a part of the Ritual that none have seen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Spark Before Flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a little thing to hold me over while I'm struggling on my Invader Zim fan fiction</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was only a matter of time before the Troupe could be summoned.<br/>Grimm could sense it. The Nightmare Heart could sense it. <br/>The next Ritual would come to pass soon. <br/>There was a ruined Kingdom to cleanse.<br/><br/>Grimm knew what the solid tightness in his thorax meant. It came as soon as he sensed the summoning. One moment he was going about his usual business. The next, he could feel a hard form knitting itself together and then lodging hard in his chest when the torch was lit. <br/>He had been through it before, and many times before that, when he was his own predecessors. <br/>It was like swallowing a large amount of food that would not dislodge. But in reverse. It threatened to burst from his throat.<br/><br/>Some of the newer members of the Troupe thought Grimm was preparing for some new act on the mortal plane when smoke started to rise out from his mouth. <br/>They only became concerned when it was apparent that this was no act.<br/>Opening his mouth only made the smoke billow from his throat anyway. </p><p><br/>"Brumm and Divine will have your answers. Speak with them" Grimm teleported to his quarters without another word, leaving a few young performers looking befuddled, before going to search for the musician and fortune teller.  </p><p>The curtains closed with a snap; he clipped up the small seal of binding that normally hung from the ropes without purpose. There could be no interruptions or prying eyes.<br/>It wasn't that Grimm didn't want any vulnerability to be seen by his subordinates. <br/>This was private. The nearest a higher being like him could have to a behavior as humble as nesting. <br/>He kneeled on the bed under the perch where he normally slept from the rafters of the tent. He would not be resting there for some time.<br/>He cupped his hands near his mouth and began a long, hard exhale. <br/>The smoke fell away to little sparks of yellow flame. <br/>A wisp of orange. <br/>A trail of red. <br/><br/>Finally, running out of breath, he coughed, hands closed near his mouth as a large plume erupted, exploding with blue light as bright as Lifeblood.<br/>The whole red room was illuminated momentarily in a blue flash. <br/>Wheezing, he clasped his hands tight around the blue flame cupped in his palms, squeezing it tight. <br/>He ignored the sudden pit in his insides; he'd experienced it enough through the memories of previous forms, anyway. It was nothing strange any longer. <br/>There was something more important to focus on.<br/>Focusing his being into keeping the blue flame captive so it could take shape. <br/>He slowed his breath, careful and steady, as he watched the light between his fingers temper and cool. <br/>And as the color reduced - blue to red, red to orange, orange to yellow, he could feel weight in his palm. Like a warm little coal. <br/><br/>With the fire was completely dissipated into faint trails of smoke, Grimm opened his hands.<br/>"There you are, child." He wheezed; once again, his throat was ruined by the degree of heat he had expelled, reduced to even more of a rasp than it typically was. <br/>And as always, there was no sense in questioning if his efforts were worth it. There was no choice but to see worth. His new vessel, just an off-white gray grub, trembled fitfully in his opened hands. <br/>Its limbs were tiny - no good for flight yet. <br/>It hadn't even tried to make any sort of noise yet, or lift its head.</p><p>Grimm adjusted his legs so he could recline, holding the vessel child close to his thorax to balance it safely. Before he settled completely, he closed his cloaking wings so the child would be sealed tightly in his heat. <br/>Their time together would be limited, to be cut short by summoning. The child would be passed to the acolyte, and would be in their charge when the ritual was completed. <br/>Once, long ago, he and they had been summoned almost immediately after the birth. When he, as the child then, still could not fly. <br/>It had been many generations, but Grimm still felt resentment for the moth that called them. He didn't even have the time to prepare a charm. <br/><br/>No matter. <br/>This was the present now. <br/>The child was starting to rouse. It uttered a little 'aaahr' beneath his wings. Its sticky body stuck to his chitinous plates as it found the strength to push itself under his ruff. <br/>"Ah. Is that better?" He kept a hand over it. <br/>The child was unresponsive. As it would be in its first moments. Its first priority was shaking off the confusion of its abrupt existence. Or rest.<br/><br/>Rest was certainly appealing. Grimm had never been summoned at this age before; usually he was slightly younger. But it had been a long time since a Ritual was called. <br/>"You've got the right idea, child." He mused, curling a free arm over his head. <br/>The child would be introduced to the Troupe when they woke. When the hollowness in his thorax was dulled and healed, at least as much as it could be.  </p><p>He couldn't spend too much time resting. The Troupe would be worried, no matter how Brumm and Divine kept concerns at bay.<br/>It was little more than an hour of rest, but it passed like what a mortal called a 'dream-like blur'. A phrase with no meaning to Grimm, especially within his own realm. <br/>When the child woke, he rose from the bed, ensuring the child was clinging tight so he could undo the spell of binding.<br/><br/>He passed through the curtain for the child's first debut. <br/><br/></p>
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